


Gifts

by Ludovica



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Development, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female-Centric, Femslash February, Fluff and Angst, POV Female Character, Valinor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>8 presents Artanis and Aredhel gave to each other, 8 moments they shared in Tirion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Cousin!”, Artanis called as she entered the parlor with fast steps – and stopped instantly when she saw four Elves sitting around the room instead of one, as she apparently had expected.

An apologetic grin appeared on her face. “Aredhel, more precisely.” She nodded towards the three sons of Feanor, before she turned to the only other woman in the parlor. Aredhel looked her cousin over with apparent amusement. There were smudges of soot on her face and her forearms, and her fingertips were as black as coal. Her bright hair was held out of her face by a band of leather and braided into a tight plait. She was wearing working clothes, even her smithing apron, and she had pushed her sleeves back up over her elbows.

She was also leaving sooty footprints on the white marble floor.

“Does Finrod know that his little sister is running around Finwe’s House looking like a piece of debris fallen from Aule’s anvil?”, Celegorm quipped, earning himself a chuckle from Amrod and Amras and a slap on the arm from Aredhel, who was sitting in a chair next to him.

Artanis just rolled her eyes at him in the most dramatic way possible before she looked at Aredhel again, a beaming smile lighting her sooty face up. “Aredhel, you need to come, just for a second, please!”

The twins exchanged amused glances and Celegorm raised an eyebrow at Artanis’ excitement, but Aredhel just smiled leniently and stood, turning to the three men. “Stay here if you want. I’ll be back soon.”

However, when Artanis tried to grab her wrist, she flinched from her touch. “For the love of Orome, don’t touch my dress, really! Even if you don’t care for all that soot, I really, really like this dress, and that stuff won’t go out after an age of soaking.”

Artanis snorted, but grinned at her again, not trying to touch her anymore. “How can a huntress be that prissy? Though I don’t understand how you don’t completely ruin those white dresses of yours during your hunts anyway…”

“That’s because she lets us do all the dirty work!”, Amrod called over Aredhel’s shoulder. “Yes, shooting the prey is fine, but retrieving her arrows or – Manwe forbid – cleaning them, that’s beneath our beautiful White Lady”, his twin brother chimed in. “Let alone dressing anything…”, Celegorm added with a little grin.

“Hush, you!” Aredhel made a dismissive gesture towards the three. “Why would I take any of you with me if I didn’t need somebody for all the bloody parts? I have a reputation to lose, after all. Or do you want me to be known as the ‘Bloodspattered Lady of the Noldor’?”

Artanis snorted again, while Amrod half-choked on a sip of wine.

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch your precious gowns”, Artanis said, lifting her really quite filthy hands as if to show Aredhel that they were good and far away from her. “But now come, come, come! I really have to show you something!”

With a loud, though insincere sigh Aredhel followed Artanis out into the hallway and down into the spacious forges of Finwe’s House.

They walked through long, high vaults resounding with the din of hammers hitting anvils, the hiss of metal being quenched and the scraping of gems being cut – the delightful noises of Noldorim industriousness. The vaults were hot from all the furnaces along their walls and the smaller separate smithies adjoining to them, and Aredhel kept smiling and nodding at the Elves who stopped their work when the both of them passed and bowed respectfully to her. While Artanis spent most of her time down here, Aredhel was a rarely seen guest in the smithies and forges, and she could well understand that some of the Noldor working down here were surprised to see their White Lady, of all people, among the grime and smoke of the furnaces.

Somehow she managed to get to Artanis’ workshop without dirtying the fringe of her dress, even though she wasn’t quite sure if she would be able to wear these shoes again anytime soon, despite the pattens she had put on outside of the vaults.

As a granddaughter of Finwe, Artanis had been given one of the biggest workshops in the vaults, and the shelves on one of the walls bore witness to the amount of time she spent down here. Aredhel could not tell what half of the objects splattered on those shelves were, but there was jewelry among them, some strange-looking tools, candle holders, little figurines, and – was that a chair?

Artanis seemed to like to experiment not only with the forms of her work pieces, but also with materials. There was plenty of metal, to be sure, but also wood, gems and different sorts of stone, even leather.

She was standing in front of her workbench now, with a broad grin on her face while she wiped her fingers on her apron. Aredhel really wondered why she hadn’t done that before.

“Do you remember how you said that usual broadheads would make it hard to shoot game without rendering a good part of the fur useless? And how, if you use smaller-headed arrows, you’d have to hunt them down for a far longer time than with the big heads?”

Aredhel raised her eyebrows. “I do, certainly.” She had been rambling about arrows one night, a month ago, after quite a few glasses of wine. That day, she had brought back a small doe which her arrow had hit in the most unfortunate of ways, not only cutting a gash through the skin over her flank, but also not killing her immediately, so that panic had driven the animal into the thick underbrush where she had succumbed to the wound.

She could see Artanis’ fingers twitching as she stepped aside and motioned to her workbench. “I have been playing around with different designs these last weeks. I don’t know a lot about hunting, as you know, so I kept pestering Aegnor and read up on types of game and arrows, and, well…”

Aredhel looked at the objects on the workbench. There was a neatly laid-out assortment of arrowheads, longer than usual but with much narrower blades. They had long barbs on either side, and smaller barbs near to the point, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the whole blade was slightly undulated.

“I have tried them out on bags of earth”, Artanis said, shifting a little bit. “As far as I intended with their shape, they should pierce the skin of your game with as little an entry wound as possible. When the animal moves on, they dig deeper into it, and kill them from the inside a lot faster than normal arrows. I mean, I haven’t really seen how exactly they work with actual, living animals – bags of earth just get you so far – but, I thought, maybe you’d like to test them?”

Aredhel took one of the arrowheads up, scrutinizing it. The weight was average, though the barbs were sharper than she was used to. The edges were indeed undulated, but in such a perfectly smooth way that she could neither find raises nor dents in the hard surface. It was also really flat, with just enough girth under the barbs to make them actually grip.

“These are really, really good, Artanis”, she said with sincere admiration.

When she looked up at her cousin again, her breath hitched for a second. Artanis’ light-blue eyes were shining with pride, and a wide grin spread on her soot-stained face.

Notwithstanding her blue eyes and silver-golden hair – in this moment, Artanis was the epitome of a Noldorim artisan.

And it came as a surprise to Aredhel, even though she felt bad for even thinking so. Of course, Artanis was a granddaughter of the king of the Noldor, just as she was herself, but it was a bit hard at times to see her as that, and not as the half-Falmar with but a quarter of Noldorim parentage.

But with that pride shining in her eyes like Varda’s stars, the way she seemed to become even taller with joy over the praise of the work of her hands – there was no doubt to which clan her heart and soul belonged.

That look on her face was so adorable that Aredhel had a hard time keeping herself from pulling her into one of those rib-crushing embraces like she had done when they had still been children.

She felt a similar smile spread on her own face. “Do you have a pouch or something to put those in? I’ll ask the master of the armory for some shafts and use them for my next hunt.”

Her cousin nodded and turned around to take a little leather pouch from a nearby shelf.

“Could I take a look at your prey if you shoot something with them?”, she asked eagerly while Aredhel carefully put the arrowheads into the bag. “I want to see if they actually work like I intended them to work.”

“Well, sure”, Aredhel answered, pulling the pouch close. “If you don’t mind all the blood and gore and those things.”

Artanis raised her eyebrows again, and then held her hands up, so Aredhel could see her still dirty fingertips. “Do I look as if I minded something like blood? I’m not you, cousin.”

Aredhel just grinned at her while she fastened the pouch to her belt. Then she leaned forward, careful not to get too close to her with any other part of her body so she wouldn’t really ruin this dress, and gave her a little peck on the cheek.

“And isn’t that a good thing?”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, are you excited?” Aredhel asked, disentangling a few strands of hair before she went on brushing her silver-golden tresses.

Artanis grinned while she made eye contact with her cousin through the large mirror in front of her. “Well, after a few dozen years I should get used to my begetting-day being celebrated every year, shouldn’t I?”

Aredhel laughed and playfully tugged on a strand of her hair. “Yes, but what with your grandfather and your uncles coming for a visit! And all the folk that will come with them and they all are here just to celebrate you and your beauty.”

She snorted, tilting her head back when the soft brush ran over that nice spot just over her left ear, closing her eyes while she relaxed under Aredhel’s skilled fingers. “I hope they brought some of that delicious boiled fish salad… I haven’t eaten that since my last visit to Alqualonde…”

Her cousin just grinned while her hands ran through Artanis’ soft hair. “I don’t mean the salad, silly. I mean all those handsome Telerin men, with their dark eyes and their easy smiles…”

Artanis raised her eyebrows at her cousin through the mirror. “And, pray tell, why should I be excited for my grandfather’s household?”

“Surely King Olwe won’t only bring his household with him. I heard that quite a few men of the high houses of Alqualonde will attend the celebrations, friends of your grandfathers’ kin, owners of many ships…” Artanis was sure that something was resonating in her voice, something bitter, apprehensive, even though she tried to make her words sound merry and casual.

Artanis turned around to her.

“Do you really think I would just fall head over heels for some Telerin noble who happens to stroll around on my begetting celebration? Really, Aredhel?” She snorted. “What would I even be supposed to talk about with them? Navigation? How to best stick pearls to your walls? Oh, don’t you worry, cousin.” She shot Aredhel, whose pale cheeks had turned a tiny bit pink, a broad grin, and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “I won’t fall in love with a Teler. If I ever marry, it’s going to be somebody who knows the fire of the forge and the thrill of creation. Somebody whose hands are callused in the evening and whose heart yearns for knowledge, not just the music of the sea.”

Aredhel looked at her with amusement in her eyes and a little smile curling her mouth before she tousled her hair. “Sometimes you’re too much of a granddaughter of Finwe for your own good, really.” She hesitated for a moment, then she cupped Artanis’ cheek and leaned forward, kissing her nose. “I really hope you’ll not fall for one of those Falmari. I’d hate to be the only girl among fourteen lads.”

Artanis chuckled lowly. “Don’t you let Celegorm hear that you’re calling him ‘lad’.”

Her cousin grinned widely. “Oh, come on, as if I care about Celegorms sensibilities. And now turn around, I need to get done with your hair.”

She turned around with a grin, looking in the mirror again. Aredhel started to part a few strands of hair from just over her temple and joined them at the back of her head, where she started to braid them in a complicated, yet narrow pattern with alternating strands. Most of her hair was still falling loosely over her back, but the braid was keeping her hair out of her face, and when Aredhel held up a hand mirror behind her head, she saw that the braid formed a wavy, loose pattern.

Artanis smiled. She was not overly fond of letting her hair fall completely loose, even though it would have been more appropriate for such a celebration than it was for, say, a day of work in the vaults, but of course she knew that its whole beauty was best displayed when it was falling freely. Aredhel had obviously found a way to help her keep her hair tamed without taking away from its splendor.

“You are really good with this sort of thing”, she said, carefully palpating the neat waves of braided hair running from the top of her neck down over her back.

“Well, it’s a lot easier to do for somebody else,” Aredhel answered, shrugging.

Artanis looked into the mirror in front of her again. She was wearing the light blue dress her mother had sewn for her, with silver seams and a train so long and flowing that she had had to practice walking in it so she wouldn’t step on it accidentally. It was Telerin in kind, with wide sleeves instead of close-fitting ones like those of Aredhel’s silver dress, and without any of the intricate decoration on the sleeves or seam. The dress covered her shoulders and collarbones, but the collar was not high as a high-cut Noldorin dress would have been, and it was a strange feeling to feel air on her neck, but not on her shoulders. It was also slightly strange to feel the dress just fall loosely over her hips, not held by some sort of silver, golden or jewel-studded belt, like it was custom among the women of the Noldor. However, the fabric was beautiful, light and with a slight shimmer, and it had the exact same color as her eyes…

“You really are beautiful,” Aredhel whispered behind her, running her hands over the soft lengths of fabric falling over her shoulders. The touch made Artanis shiver slightly. She didn’t exactly know why, because Aredhel had been touching her hair for nearly an hour now, and she was well enough used to her cousin’s touch… But something about the way her fingers ran over the fabric, stroking her skin through it…

She was jolted out of her thoughts when Aredhel patted her shoulder. She cleared her throat slightly, trying to fight the blush that was rising to her cheeks. “So, I guess I’m ready?”

“Ah”, Aredhel looked as if she had just remembered something important. “Not quite yet… Wait a second.”

And suddenly she was out of the door and gone, and Artanis just sat on her chair and looked at the open door in confusion. She turned around to the mirror again with a sigh, deciding that there was nothing else to do at the moment than to wait for Aredhel to return. After all, this wasn’t the first time her cousin had just bolted on a whim. But how was she ‘not quite yet ready’, really? She looked herself over again, looked at her nicely done hair and her beautiful dress and her clean face and hands. Was there something she had forgotten?

Aredhel returned a few minutes later – with a bundle of white fabric in her arm.

She laid the bundle down next to Artanis’ feet. When Artanis looked at her with a quizzical look, she grinned a little bit sheepishly and stroked a strand of her raven hair behind her ear. “I know, it’s not customary to give you your present before the feast, but… I asked Lady Earwen, and she said it was alright if I gave it to you now so you could wear it during the celebration…”

Artanis raised her eyebrows. “What is it?” She asked, leaning forward on her chair eagerly, as if to get a better view of the still not opened bundle.

Her cousin looked up at her for a second; a grin on her lips, her grey eyes sparkling as she slowly unfolded the white fabric, carefully laying the folds aside until…

Artanis couldn’t tell at first what it was that Aredhel had revealed. It would have been hard to even see that there was anything other than the white fabric, if she hadn’t seen the twinkling and glittering that ran in an intricate net over the whole of the fabric now, catching the light that shone through her high windows and reflecting it in a thousand different hues, some of them bold and bright like the colors of the rainbow, some softer, like the reflection on the surface of the pools of Alqualonde.

When Aredhel carefully lifted the net of glittering light up, Artanis realized that it was a veil, made of such fine, white threat that it had blended into the white of the fabric. The glittering and glistening she had seen came from tiny, colorless jewels and brilliantly white pearls that were artfully woven into the veil and formed intricate patterns of light.

Artanis opened her mouth to say something, but words failed her, and she just closed it again. There just… there were no words for something of such beauty. She intertwined her fingers and pressed her lips against them, just staring at the veil, shaking her head slightly as she felt a strange pressure behind her eyes and a lump in her throat.

“Did you…” She finally managed to get out, “Did you make that?”

Aredhel smiled while she let the veil slide through her fingers, carefully catching it again before it slipped from her hands. “I did, yes,” She answered, looking up at Artanis again, still smiling. “The pearls are from Lady Earwen, the stones are from my own collection.”

She stood up, and Artanis turned back around to the mirror when Aredhel stepped behind her. Her cousin was careful when she laid the veil over her hair and started to pin the net into it with tiny, thin silver pins that vanished in her golden hair.

“It would have been a shame to hide the splendor your hair, so I tried to keep the web as loose as possible.”

She ran her hands through the still loose lengths, smiling over her shoulder while Artanis watched her work. Aredhel leaned down a bit, propping her chin up on Artanis’ shoulder. She could feel her cousin’s hands on her back, and she could hardly keep herself from trembling slightly when a warm shiver ran from the spot her hands touched through her whole body.

She tilted her head slightly, watching the play of light on the pearls and jewels on her hair. “It’s incredibly beautiful,” She said with awe. Her hair might shine like the light of Telperion and Laurelin on its own, but now the light of Varda’s stars seemed to be caught in it as well.

Aredhel grinned and carefully ran her fingers over a few jewels. “Everybody is going to be blinded by your radiance…”

“I just hope no one will run into the cake.” Artanis quipped, trying to dispel the heat from her face with playful casualness. “Blind guests might turn out to be a serious safety hazard. And that cake looked delicious…”

Aredhel chortled. “Don’t tell me you’ve been down in the kitchens again?”

“Of course!” Artanis grinned impishly. “I had to make sure that the cake matches my dress, after all.”

Her cousin shook her head, making strands of her raven hair dance around her face. “So pretty, and so childish.”

“I’m not childish”, she replied, a smug grin on her lips. “I just know how to enjoy myself.”

She didn’t exactly know why she reached up to her shoulder after those words, or why her fingers found those of her cousin. And she didn’t know why her heart sped up when Aredhel’s fingers closed around hers, squeezing them gently.

It wasn’t as if she wasn’t used to her cousin’s touch, really. But well… Maybe she was just excited for the celebration.

Aredhel let go of her hand soon enough, straightening her own dress and adjusting her sleeves and her silver belt.

“So… Shall we go then?”


	3. Chapter 3

The light of Laurelin was at its brightest when Aredhel entered the stables.

Silmalata was already waiting for her behind the low stone wall that separated the walkway from the large communal box, nickering softly at her mistress when the Elf ran her hand over the horse’s soft grey snout.

“Hello to you too, my beautiful friend…” Aredhel murmured lowly, stroking Silmalata’s neck and ears. She had already been saddled and bridled, like quite a number of the other mares in the box who had not yet been fetched by their riders for the journey. Nearly all Elves of the household of Finwe would accompany them to Valimar, and a large assembly of the other inhabitants of Tirion as well – after all, the birth of the first child of King Finwe’s eldest daughter was an event to be celebrated for days on end, and even more so as it was also the first child of King Ingwe’s youngest son.

Silmalata nudged her snout against Aredhel’s traveling robes, huffing and stomping her front hoof.

“Already so impatient?” the Elf asked in a low, soothing voice, rubbing the horse’s ear in a way that would make her relax a little bit. “You do realize that we’re not going hunting today, do you? I’m sure I can find some place beside the road to let you run for a while before we come to Valimar, but as soon as there are Vanyar around to see us, you really have to stay with the other horses and walk.”

The mare seemed to be not quite happy about this, but she just huffed again, ears flattening against her head for a second, before she trotted over to the gate in the stone wall and waited for Aredhel to open it.

Just when Aredhel was about to reach for the latch, she heard very familiar, very rushed footsteps on the stone floor.

“Ah, I figured that you’d be here already!” Artanis called out merrily.

Aredhel looked at her cousin in slight confusion. “I thought you were already in the stallion stables fetching Laurenáro?” Artanis was holding something behind her back, it seemed. At least that was the only reason for the strange way she held her arm that Aredhel could think of.

“I’ll be with him in a minute, but I have something for Silmalata first.”

She raised her eyebrows at that answer. “For Silmalata?”

She had never noticed that her cousin interacted all that much with her steed. She wasn’t even very likely to visit Laurenáro quite as often as Aredhel would have seen decent, though of course in things equine they were opposite forces, she and Artanis.

While Aredhel spent most of her time with Silmalata, so much that she was sometimes convinced that her horse could read her thoughts even before they crossed her mind, the main reason for Artanis to own a horse was that it wasn’t proper for somebody of Artanis’ status not to have her own steed. Laurenáro was an undemanding enough horse, and he was very happy as it was to just laze around on the pasture all day and to get up to all sorts of nonsense as soon as foals or children were around him, but sometimes Aredhel really wondered if he wouldn’t be happier if Artanis could get herself to spend more time with him. She even went so far as to bribe Artanis to ride out with her every once in a while. She had sacrificed quite a few desserts for Laurenáro’s well-being.

Though of course, the grooms kept telling her that Laurenáro really didn’t mind not having to work for an extended period of time. He got all the exercise he wanted anyway, since Finwe’s horses spent nearly all their time on the vast pastures at the foot of the Túna. Yet Aredhel still didn’t approve so much of her cousin’s way to care for her horse.

There was a sparkle in Artanis’ eyes, a cheeky grin on her lips, and Aredhel could swear that she had already seen that expression once or twice, though she couldn’t recall when that had been. She was wearing travelling clothes as well, wide trousers hidden under loose lengths of slightly thicker than usual robes, with a dark blue cloak around her shoulders and her hair held back with simple braids running from her temples to the back of her head, in the same fashion as Aredhel had had her maids braid her hair this morning. She was also wearing a circlet, like it was proper for a princess of the house of Finwe, a fine golden one shaped like stylized clematis leaves, with a blue, tear-shaped gem on her forehead.

Aredhel did her best to tear her gaze away from the exquisite sparkle of the jewel on her skin, back to that foreboding sparkle in her eyes.

“For Silmalata, yes. I’ve been improving my skills in the arts of leather crafting lately and, well…”

She pulled her hand out from behind her back and presented a bridle of dark grey leather, adorned with delicate silver decorations in the shape of thyme sprigs and little, colorless gems.

“Zircon”, Artanis said, running a finger over one of the gems. “I found out that you can change their color with heat.” A grin spread on her face, the kind she always had when she was talking about her crafts. “I mean, I haven’t yet found out how to make them take any other color than blue or this diamond-like transparency, but I thought that they would fit Silmalata really well.”

Aredhel couldn’t help but chuckle. “Did you hear that, Silmalata?” she asked her horse, running her hand over her soft snout again. “Artanis wants you to wear pretty jewels. How do you like that?”

Silmalata looked at her mistress at first, then she turned to Artanis, pushing her snout forward to nudge the bridle and sniff it.

Then she lifted her head and nudged her snout into Artanis hair, apparently nibbling some of her golden, definitely quite hay-like locks, at least judging by the sudden squeak her cousin let out.

Aredhel’s grin got wider and she patted Silmalata’s neck when Artanis pushed her head away.

“She is definitely pleased”, she assessed as Silmalata huffed happily.

“Does she always try to eat the people who please her?” Artanis asked, wiping a bit of horse spit from her neck, though she was already grinning again.

She shrugged. “Horses nibble each other’s manes as a sign of affection.”

Now it was Artanis’ turn to huff. “Do I look like a horse then?”

Aredhel couldn’t keep the vicious smirk off her face, even though she was trying her hardest. Her cousin was adorable when she acted as if she was offended. “Silmalata might think so.”

Artanis opened her mouth in theatrical indignation, before she wrinkled her nose at Aredhel and turned to Silmalata again. “You should put it on right now if you like it”, she said, pointedly to the horse and not to her cousin, before she shot Aredhel a little look and nodded towards her horse.

Aredhel understood what she wanted her to do, even though her imperious behavior made her grin slightly again. She didn’t say anything, though, just opened the straps and latches of the bridle Silmalata was wearing, then she called for a passing stable hand to take the bridle back into the tack room.

“Say,” she asked while she watched Artanis put the new bridle on Silmalata, “won’t Laurenáro be jealous if you make a new bridle for my horse, but not for him?”

“Laurenáro isn’t the type to get jealous,” Artanis answered, carefully pulling the straps closed. “Besides,” she looked at Aredhel again, grinning, “I already put his own new bridle on him earlier.”

Aredhel raised her eyebrows. “I would not have pegged you for such a passionate leatherworker.”

“Oh, it’s great fun. You should try it sometimes, cousin, I’m sure you’d be quite talented. You know, with those clever fingers of yours.” There was something else than just cheekiness in her grin now, something that was nearly teasing…

It made Aredhel’s stomach churn, an unfamiliar, unsettling sensation, and she broke the eye contact she had made with Artanis and looked at Silmalata again, who was now properly bridled again.

“That suits her really well indeed,” she said as she ran her hand over the finely worked leather straps and the even finer silver and gem adornments. Artanis was slowly beginning to develop a distinct style in her ornamental metalwork. She liked to use plant motifs, and she was becoming sort of notorious for creating her very own patterns, using plants few other people had thought about using before. She never did anything with such common motifs like ivy or rose or lily, but sometimes Aredhel found her strolling around in the kitchen gardens, looking at marjoram and running her fingers over sage leaves or napping the one or other green part from the carrot field or a single lettuce leaf.

Maybe she should start to bring some pretty leaves and grasses home from her hunts, Aredhel thought. Maybe Artanis would like that…

She carefully shoved her fingers under the noseband to make sure that her cousin hadn’t pulled it too tight, then she nodded and looked at the blond Elf next to her again.

“Do you want to ride with me later? I’ll take a bit of a detour, so Silmalata gets some proper exercise; don’t want her to get bored on the way.”

That idea didn’t seem to thrill Artanis very much. She pushed her lower lip out and frowned slightly, then she asked: “Aren’t you going to ride with your Guard of Honor?”

Aredhel tried hard not to laugh at that. She knew that Artanis was not very keen on spending more time than necessary with the sons of Feanor, and she respected that, but her face when she thought that somebody would force her to interact with them was nothing short of hilariously cute.

“Don’t you worry”, she said soothingly. “I haven’t asked them yet, and if you agree, I’ll let them know that they’re not invited if they should try to follow us.”

Artanis’ face relaxed at that. “So…” She looked into her eyes again, curiously, blinking slowly, “only the two of us then?”

Her voice was lower than before, and the strange feeling in Aredhel’s belly returned, though she tried to ignore it when she answered. “Indeed. We haven’t had many opportunities to talk alone for quite a while, after all.”

“Well…” Artanis pursed her lips slightly while she tried to rearrange some of the strands of her hair that Silmalata had brought in disorder earlier. “As long as you promise me that you won’t try to pull me out of the saddle again…”

This time Aredhel couldn’t hold back her chuckle. “That was one time!”

“One time too much.”

“I won’t pull you out of the saddle again, I promise.” Aredhel grinned. “Lady Earwen would have my head if I made you fall into the mud before we come to Valimar.” She scratched Silmalata behind her ears, looking at the silver ornaments again. “It was bad enough the first time that happened, after all.”

“Well, I guess my mother had every reason to be angry with you, since I did break my wrist because of your little ‘prank’.”

There was a hint of accusations in her voice, but when Aredhel turned to look at Artanis, she saw that she was smiling, gently, as if she was reminiscing about the days of their shared childhood, so long ago.

“I could have sworn Finrod was about to have a heart attack when you came home crying and covered in mud”, Aredhel remembered, grinning now as well. “And then Celegorm thought he had to defend my honor or something like that…” She shook her head slightly, still amused by the very thought.

“Yes, if father hadn’t pulled the two of them apart…” Artanis giggled – a sound that startled Aredhel. Her cousin hardly ever _giggled_ – or rather, she hadn’t done it in a very, very long time.

It was a beautiful noise, light like tinkling of silver bells.

Flustered, Aredhel stroked a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“So, will you ride with me then?”

Artanis looked at her for a second, then she shrugged. “I’ll trust you for now”, she said, grinning. “But you’ll have to do something for me then.”

“And what would that be?” Aredhel asked, raising her eyebrows again.

Another grin spread on Artanis’ face as she pulled something out of the wide pockets of her travelling robe. “You’ll have to wear this.”

Aredhel’s eyes widened for a second, then she let out a laugh. “You made a matching circlet to the bridle?! Really?”

“Of course!” Artanis grin grew even wider. “I had too many zircons left, so I just made good use of them.” She tapped the jewel on her forehead with a finger.

Aredhel chuckled. “So we will both match with our horses?”

“And with each other, in a way.” Artanis’ eyes sparkled again, brazen and mischievous like the little imp she was, and suddenly, shockingly, Aredhel was overcome by an irresistible need to just _touch_ her. She fought that sudden urge down as far as she could, though she couldn’t keep herself from running her fingers over the soft skin of Artanis’ knuckles before she took the circlet.

“You go get Laurenáro then”, she said, taking off her own circlet and replacing it with that Artanis had made for her. “I’ll meet you in the yard in a moment, alright?”

Artanis’ gaze lingered on her for a few moments, before she finally nodded. “In a moment.”

Then she left Aredhel alone with Silmalata.

Aredhel watched her cousin leave the stables in her usual speed, her wide robes billowing behind her, before she turned around to her horse again and finally opened the latch on the gate in the low stone wall. She reached for the reins, feeling the smoothness of the new leather in her hands. Once again, she ran her fingers over the silver adornments, warm from Silmalata’s body heat now.

“You really look good in that, my friend.”


	4. Chapter 4

“If mother doesn’t make haste finally, the ferryman might think we changed our mind…”, Angrod grumbled as he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against his steed, who just snorted and adjusted his stance a bit before he started to nibble Laurenáro’s saddlecloth.

“Oh don’t act like an anxious whelp, brother”, Aegnor said, biting into his second apple. “If the ferryman couldn’t wait an hour or two for the daughter of his own king, he would probably not stay a ferryman for a very long time.”

Angrod glowered at his younger brother. “Who’s the whelp here? And it’s not only the ferryman; our escort to Alqualonde is waiting as well. We are not making a good impression.”

At that, Artanis cackled. “They lived with mother for quite a time, they should know her distaste for timeliness by now.”

“It is still poor form, and it reflects back upon us”, Angrod replied disgruntledly and stole one of Aegnor’s apples from his brother’s coat pocket.

“You’re nearly as impatient as Caranthir”, Artanis remarked, motioning to Aegnor to toss her one of those apples as well. Apparently he had been at one of the trees in the orchard again before they got ready to depart.

Angrod blushed as Aegnor chuckled at their sister’s jibe. “I am not impatient,” he bristled, though his voice was softer already than a few moments before. “I just do not like to wait.”

“Whatever lets you sleep peacefully at night, brother,” Aegnor said with his mouth full, before he suddenly perked up. “Look who’s coming to keep us company in our dismal vigil!” he called out, waving towards the path that ran from the slightly secluded stable compound to the manifold buildings of the house of Finwe.

Artanis’ eyes followed her brother’s – and instantly she felt a smile spread over her face.

“I thought you’d forgotten to bid us goodbye, cousin!” she called out as Aredhel approached them, not in her riding clothes and thus rather certainly not here for Silmalata.

“I’d never!” Aredhel replied, halting in front of them. She was wearing a leather bag over her shoulder, Artanis noticed.

“We’d already be gone if mother didn’t need so excruciatingly long to get ready,” Angrod said, impatiently watching the pathway again.

“I’ve met Lady Earwen’s chambermaid on the way,” Aredhel said, a roguish sparkle in her eyes, “She said she’d be ready in about half an hour.”

Neither Artanis nor Aegnor could stop their grins at Angrod’s groan.

“Artanis,” Aredhel suddenly said, drawing Artanis’ attention back to her, “Could we talk for a moment?”

Artanis raised her eyebrows in surprise, then she shot her brothers a look from the corner of her eyes and nodded. “Sure. Don’t run off without me, lads.”

Aredhel didn’t lead her very far off, just to the corner of one of the stables, so that Angrod and Aegnor couldn’t hear them when they kept their voices down, and with the horses between them to keep the two men from watching them (Artanis knew that at least Aegnor would definitely look over the saddle of his horse to see what they were up to, but it still felt more private this way).

“I thought, since you’re going to stay in Alqualonde for several months…”, Aredhel began, then stopped, opening the fastening of her leather bag with swift fingers, “You’ll likely not be able to get your hands on a hammer or anvil when the mood strikes, and I somehow doubt that you’ll suddenly find a passion for nacre carving, so…” She smiled wryly as she pulled out a thick pocketbook and handed it to Artanis. It was bound in an envelope cover of fine, dark leather, held closed with a delicate swing clasp in the form of two snakes with emerald eyes and a golden crown (like the badge of Artanis’ father and his house), and with fine metal corner pieces, ornamented with little carvings in the image of the crests of Finwe and Olwe. The leather itself was embossed with patterns that looked like stylized depictions of the Two Trees, and it was nearly as smooth as a babe’s skin.

Artanis raised her eyebrows as she ran her finger over the really well-made clasp. She had known that Aredhel had a good hand at metal carving, and so the artful corner pieces didn’t surprise her really, but this…

But instead of saying anything about the clasp right away, she ran her hand over the leather of the book and turned it around to take a closer look at her cousin’s handiwork.

“So you did take my advice and started working with leather?” she asked, grinning as a warm sort of pride spread in her belly.

“Well,” Aredhel replied with a smile that reflected the pride Artanis was feeling, “It’s a fine way to make more use of my prey. I mean, I’ve let the tanner process the hides, but other than that it’s all my work.”

Artanis’ grin spread wider. “Not bad, really, not bad,” she said, looking at the edges of the cover and then at the clasp, frowning at it before she looked up again. “But… How exactly…”

“Oh, wait!” Aredhel took the book again, holding it so that Artanis could see the front cover. “You need to move the crown aside to open it… Like this…” With one finger, she pushed the crown out between the heads of the two snakes, and the clasp sprung open with a low ‘snap’.

Artanis carefully opened the book, whistling her admiration as she ran her fingers over blank pages of smooth parchment.

“You might not be able to do any crafting in Alqualonde,” Aredhel said, “but at least you can sketch out your ideas for new work pieces.”

Artanis grinned as her fingers ran over the back of the book. “Did you bind it yourself too?” she asked. She was really rather surprised to see her cousin excel at so many different crafts all of a sudden; after all, she had never shown even half as much enthusiasm for this sort of pursuit as most other Noldor. She had always been good at sewing and lace-making, yes, but working with wood and leather and metal, like she would have had to actually bind a book, was something that she hadn’t thought her cousin half as talented in as she seemed to be after all.

The thought that Aredhel could be actually gifted in these kinds of pursuits, but preferred to spend her days in the woods riding and hunting with Feanor’s sons, didn’t quite sit right with Artanis. She loved her cousin dearly, but somehow she had always wished that Aredhel would be able to relate to her own hunger for creation more… Yet her cousin’s passion had always been the wide, free woods and plains of Valinor…

“I had a bookbinder show me how to do it. It’s not all that hard, really. I mean, I did have to start new with the binding quite a few times, but once I understood the principles of it…” Aredhel smiled nearly sheepishly, and suddenly Artanis wondered just how much time Aredhel had spent on this gift – time she could have spent on Silmalata’s back just as well.

She couldn’t help herself as she closed the book and, holding it in one hand, careful not to rip any pages or let it fall to the ground, hugged Aredhel tightly.

Aredhel stiffened at first, though only for a second before Artanis could feel her cousin’s strong arms around her body as well. She buried her face in Aredhel’s dark hair for a second, before she pulled back again.

“I’ll make good use of it,” Artanis said in a low voice, squeezing Aredhel’s arm with one hand before she took the book into both again, clutching it to her chest.

“I hope so,” Aredhel replied and reached out to gently stroke a loose, golden strand of hair behind Artanis’ ear. Artanis had to struggle not to put her own hand on Aredhel’s to nuzzle into it… Her finger tips were warm, and she could feel the calluses riding and archery had embossed on her fingers catch slightly against her skin.

However, Artanis didn’t reach for her hand, and Aredhel pulled it away far sooner than she would have liked.

When she looked at her again, there was something like helplessness in Aredhel’s eyes.

“How many months does Lady Earwen want to stay now?” she asked, her voice lower than before.

Artanis shrugged. “She doesn’t quite know yet, I think. But she said at least six months.”

Aredhel’s lips moved around the words ‘six months’, before she shook her head slightly, sighing, before she gently took one of Artanis’ hands in her own, pulling it from her chest to lift it up to her lips and kiss her fingers, shifting her stance so that she was standing with her back to Artanis’ two brothers.

“Do promise to write me,” she whispered against her skin, and Artanis felt her face flush.

“I promise,” she answered, flexing her fingers ever so slightly in Aredhel’s hands, just to feel how her grasp tightened.

“And not only once in three months,” Aredhel said with a little grin on her lips. “I mean, I know you well enough, dearest cousin.”

Artanis grinned back. “I’ll try my best to overcome my aversion of quills for your sake.”

“You’d better. Oh, and speaking of quills…” Aredhel opened her bag again and pulled a longish black pouch out. “Charcoal”, she said as she held it out to Artanis. “Better for sketching than ink, I’d presume.”

Artanis laughed as she took the pouch. “A lot better! That’s really considerate of you.” She grinned at her, when suddenly Aegnor’s voice sounded over to them, announcing that their mother had finally arrived.

She shot Aredhel a look and nodded in the direction of the horses, then she walked back over to her brothers, putting the book and charcoal into one of her saddle bag before she turned to Aredhel again, who had followed her.

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again, cousin,” she said, ignoring her brothers as best as she could while her mother had stopped on the path to the stables to take some Noldorin noble’s farewells.

“I will too. And I hope you’ll enjoy your stay, even though I’ll dearly miss you.” Aredhel smiled and hugged Artanis again, in a way that was perfectly acceptable for women of one kin, a lot more acceptable than the hug they had shared before at least. When she drew back, she gave Artanis a playful little kiss on the nose, making her grin again.

“And we don’t get hugs and kisses?!” Aegnor called out, his voice theatrically exasperate. When Artanis turned around to her brother, she saw that he had his hands on his hips and his eyebrows raised, making him look a lot like Fingon.

Aredhel turned around, raising her eyebrows as well (in Artanis’ opinion, it looked a lot more impressive on her, with her dark brows against her pale skin). “You don’t need hugs and kisses; you’re only gone for a fortnight!”

That made Aegnor pout visibly. “But what if we want hugs and kisses?”

Artanis snorted as Aredhel rolled her eyes. She still walked up to Aegnor though, and stood up on the tips of her toes to put a kiss on his forehead.

“Happy now?” she asked, and Aegnor replied with a happy grin and nod.

“And what about me?” Angrod had come a bit closer, crossing his arms in front of his chest again, looking at Aredhel expectantly.

Now Aredhel let out an exasperated sigh, but nevertheless she went on her tiptoes again and put a hand on the back of Angrod’s head to kiss his forehead as well – before she tousled his hair.

“Hey!” Angrod called, taking a step back and trying to straighten his hair again. “Why do I get punished when Aegnor started it?”

“Good Lord Manwe, how old were you again?” Artanis asked, unable to keep the chuckle from her voice, even though she tried to sound annoyed.

“Now what’s the fuss about over here?”

The four of them turned around as their mother approached, and Artanis saw Aredhel bow her head slightly.

“Lady Earwen,” she said respectfully, though she returned the smile of Artanis’ mother.

“Aredhel! How sweet of you to come and see us off.” Earwen looked over to her children and smiled, and Artanis would have thought it an apologetic smile if she hadn’t known that her mother was one of the least likely people to apologize for anything, least of all for something as trivial as being late.

However, when she looked at the oldest of her present children, her pale eyebrows slowly traveled up her forehead.

“Do you really think your hair is in an appropriate condition for an official visit, Angrod?”


End file.
